


Buck begins

by cariba



Category: 9-1-1 (TV), 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 9/11, Backstory, Beach Bar, Buck Begins, F/M, Maribel, South America, U.S. Navy SEALs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cariba/pseuds/cariba
Summary: On September 11th, 2001 I was ten years old. And just like anyone else who is old enough to remember, I remember exactly what I did that day...Buck's backstory that we have not yet seen as I imagine it. What happened with his parents, Maddie and Pennsylvania? How did he end up bar tending in South America and why did he leave? Where did he get the nickname "Buck"? What happened as he quit SEAL training? And how the hell does he know TK and Carla's mother?
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Original Female Character(s), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Original Character(s), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Original Female Character(s), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Original Male Character(s), Evan "Buck" Buckley/TK Strand
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	1. Ground Zero

**Author's Note:**

> About 80% of this is not canon! I tried to stick to what we already knew and built a plausible backstory around that. Of course I added some interesting coincidences and fun twists life spins into my imagination of reality.  
> And since the writers promised us a "Buck begins" episode in season 4 we'll see how much I get right.

_“They say you can measure the impact of an event on humanity by the amount of remembrance. There are small occasions that may change one person’s life. Those occasions might be remembered thoroughly by one, maybe few people, but what is one person in the boundless ocean of people who wander our world for only one lifetime, while the life on earth itself does not know expiration? No, I am talking about events that will eternally be remembered by humankind. Events where each person, until their death, remembers what they did that moment. No matter how insignificant their doing might have been. When daily routine suddenly becomes memorable, simply due to the coincidence that something else, somewhere else, happened in the same moment, then you know the impact on humanity. When two numbers, a month and a day, make all the people in the room talk about the same event, then you know the impact on humanity. When children, born after the event, still know about it, like they were there, then you know the impact on humanity. When a single event separates the calculation of time in before and after, then you know the impact on humanity._

_On September 11th, 2001 I was ten years old. And just like anyone else who is old enough to remember, I remember exactly what I did that day:_

It was a Tuesday and I was in school. I liked Tuesday mornings, because it was a double period PE. I was a pretty athletic kid, after all sport was a way to put distance between me and home.   
We were inside the gym, playing basketball and that day I was annoyed as hell, because I was put in a team with only one kid that was actually invested in the game, so we basically had to play on our own. Our teacher Coach Pristan, who we lovingly called Coach P, always had a radio playing in the background when we were playing games or working out. It was a habit of his and I had tuned it out after the first week of school. I was just so focused on the games we played - this one in particular, due to the fact that we were about to lose which I could not let happen. 

When I had the ball I was surrounded by our opponents and Lewis didn’t look any better. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Tyler, a non-athletic kid, that was quite new to the school and whom I had never actually heard talk before. I didn’t want to, the chances of him making the hoop were microscopic but for the sake of fairness and teamplay I threw the ball as I yelled his name. The kid didn’t flinch, didn’t move and the orange ball smashed straight into his face. If it had surprised me, I probably would have been a lot more mad at him but I had already thrown the game when I yelled Tyler’s name. So while everyone else groaned at him in annoyance for not participating I was about to apologize for hitting him. I felt honestly bad. Tyler didn’t deserve the hostility from the other boys, but right when I opened my mouth, Tyler burst out “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” 

We all froze, including me. I realized quickly the outbreak wasn’t directed at me when through the sudden silence of the gym, the radio was all that we could hear: “... as an aircraft just hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center in New York City at 8:46 today. We have no further details yet on how it came to this tragedy. NY Fire Department is already on scene, evacuating the building complex. It is not impossible that this indeed was a terrorist attack although we do not exclude a technological failure either. We will keep you updated on the situation.”   
The song that had been playing prior to the interruption continued from the beginning again. It was Fallin’ by Alicia Keys. A number one hit at the time and ever since then, this song brings me back to that day.

Lewis was the first one who dared to speak again. “So… what does that mean now?” We all stayed silent. None of us knew. I had to think about Tyler’s outburst. Now in hindsight he must have sensed the importance of this moment right then and there, while we others remained oblivious. 

I came to learn that it varied greatly. Many people felt the weight of the situation instantly without knowing any details. Some labeled it as just another tragedy, blind to the momentousness of consequences, but we were ten year old boys - innocent and impatient to hit puberty. We weren’t ready to face a cruel reality outside our country hometown, so we mostly counted to the blind ones.

Coach P finally took control. “Tragedies happen all the time. I’m sure NYFD will handle the situation.” He was one of the blind ones as well.   
The man picked up the abandoned basketball and looked at the clock. I did too. I remember it said 8:59.   
“Meanwhile we gotta game to finish’ up. Tyler go get some ice from my office. Ya face is swellin’ up.” The Coach said with his deep southern accent. He was from Louisiana and a retired Marine. One of the many reasons, a lot of us boys looked up to him. 

Tyler did as told and shuffled off to the office as I realized I still hadn’t apologized. Lewis pulled me out of my thoughts when he complained to Coach P that we were now one guy short and that the game was lost anyways. Giving up was something the Coach hated. I would have made Lewis shut up if I had been closer to him and I already expected some push-ups but what threw me off completely was that they never came. Instead the Coach said: “Lewis is right. It’s important to know when a fight is lost or else you’ll lose a lot more than just one fight.” Later on I noticed this exact situation should have made me understand that he wasn’t a blind one. He had known at the same moment as Tyler, but he kept cool because he wanted to protect his boys from the violence he knew just too well from his experience of fighting wars for a living. 

Winner played winner in the following round. It had taken a while to figure out which team was supposed to play. Some had the same amount of wins but we had lost anyway, so we were benched for now. I grabbed my water bottle and was about to take a seat on the bleachers when I heard the Coach. “Evan! Go after Tyler. See what takes him so long. Y’all go to the nurse if he needs to.”  
I quickly obeyed with a “Yes sir!” and jogged off, my water bottle still in hand. This gave me the chance to not having to listen to Lewis complain about the lost game. 

I found Tyler in Coach P’s office. His face was actually swollen up but I was sure that if I hadn’t thrown so soft it would have been a lot worse.  
I entered the small, with junk and paper overloaded room. “Hey, Coach P sent me to look if you were okay. I’m sorry for hitting your face. I should have made sure you saw the ball coming, before throwing.”   
Tyler didn’t look at me. So I tried it again. “I can…” but I didn’t get further because Tyler just put a finger on his lips. I took the hint and shut up. Now I could hear the small transistor radio that the Coach kept on his file cabinet, quietly playing. Like I said: a habit.

I stepped closer until I was right next to him, our shoulders touching, in order for me to hear what Tyler was listening to. “...just got word from our New York City studio that a second airplane has hit the South Tower of the World Trade Center. At this point there is no room for speculation anymore. This is a terroristic attack on the United States of America…”  
I was frozen in place and suddenly the office seemed even smaller and colder than it was. The clock behind the radio showed 9:07. I don’t know why I remember that so clearly. Maybe because even though I was only ten years old it was that moment when I understood that something truly massive had happened.

“...NYFD is fighting to rescue as many people from the towers as possible. It is an extremely dangerous situation…” I could feel Tyler tightening up too next to me at the words of the anchor. We looked at each other. His eyes were filled with fear as he whispered “My dad is a firefighter there.”  
If I had fully understood the situation in New York, if I had understood how bad it actually was for the first responders I would have thrown up right there. But all I had was a lame attempt of consolation. “Tyler, I’m sure he’s really good at what he does and he will be fine.”  
Tyler nodded somberly. “He is the best. I’m living with my mom right now but I still worry about him.”  
I put my hand on the younger boy's shoulder. “Of course you do. He’s your dad, Tyler.” He looked up to me. “Please don’t call me that. I hate that name. Please call me TK. I’m TK Strand.”


	2. Pennsylvania

“Can you imagine it’s already been five years?” I heard myself say, while spinning on my chair and shooting Maddie’s hair ties at my ceiling.    
“No, it’s crazy right? I mean so much has changed since then and even though it’s been so long you can still feel how shaken people are. Especially here in New York.” said TK and his voice sounded tinny through my highly treasured Nokia phone that I had worked all summer for, in order to afford one. 

When you’re young, five years seem like an eternity. But at some point, when you get older, five years start to blur and merge and fade into a mere blink of an eye. Five years is nothing in the mass of years that put together one life.    
I didn’t know that at the time. I was fifteen. Everything longer than a class period was basically considered forever. 

“Are they gonna do anything special?” I asked TK. He was living with his dad in NYC again and going to High School there. I only saw him on the weekends and breaks, when he stayed with his mom.    
“Yeah, they’re having a memorial parade. Dad’s station is part of it and I’ll probably be riding with them in the truck.” My friend answered. His voice sounded excited, even through the Nokia which had great quality for the time but had horrible sound for today's standards.

TK wanted to be a firefighter like his dad, who did turn out to be more or less fine. More because he was alive, less because many of his men had lost  _ their _ lives, which had definitely taken a toll on the Captain.   
I didn’t know yet what I wanted to be. I didn’t really have a plan for my future except one thing. Out. Out of this house. Away from dad. Just like Maddie had. But thinking of TK brought me back to the day when I had the idea of becoming a firefighter too for the first time.

Funny enough it was the day of the attack in 2001. When my ten year old self was sitting on the floor in front of the TV. I remember the carpet to be really raspy under my fingertips. They were showing the burning towers. They were showing the people jumping - the ones who were too proud to let a tragedy dictate how their existence would end. And they were showing the firefighters and first responders. My eyes were adhered to the black and yellow uniforms. They fascinated me. The way they were carrying victims out of the rubble. The way their faces were covered in soot, but they didn’t rub it off, as if it was their war paint. 

Whenever I got the chance I tried to spot the name  _ Strand  _ on a uniform. I never did and it scared me. It made me realize that TK’s dad might be hurt or dead. It made me aware of what it meant to be a firefighter. It made me understand that firefighters put their own lives on the line for other people - therefore must have the purest hearts possible. It made me grasp how running towards danger while others were running away, wasn’t something everyone was made for. I could suddenly fathom that none of them knew if they were coming home to their families tonight. And I very much liked the idea of that at the time.

TK’s voice had pulled me out of my flashback. “Is your plan still on?” he asked. I smiled. Dumb question deserved dumb answer. “Plan? What plan?”    
My best friend huffed so I quickly continued to save myself from some sarcastic comment.  “If you mean South America, yes that’s still on. I’m saving up everything I can and the day I turn eighteen I’m out.” 

I heard TK move some stuff. He was probably looking for something to eat. “What’s gonna happen to Maddie?” he then asked, after he had plopped down on his bed. While I listened to him most likely chewing his favorite Oreos I looked out of my window, just to be met with the familiar brick wall of the neighbouring apartment complex. 

Maddie. Someone I definitely didn’t want to talk about right now. She had cut all bonds to her us when she moved in with Doug a year ago. She was too blind in love to notice that Doug was no better than our dad. I tried but she didn’t want to be saved. My sister had left me in this shithole with a man that reminded me whenever he had the time for it, how much of a failure I was. And I haven’t yet forgiven her for that.    
“You know I thought you had a crush on Maddie back in 8th grade.” I teased him with a smile, trying to evade the actual question.   
TK laughed. “How could you ever think that? Wasn’t I obviously gay enough?”    
I laughed too. “You were thirteen years old. How was I supposed to know that you were the only guy who didn’t fall for my sister?”    
My friend hearably swallowed his oreo. “Fair point. And I do have to admit, Maddie was pretty hot. It really wasn’t a surprise Doug wanted her.”   
And it didn’t surprise me either that she fell for his lies. She was desperate for a place where she would be loved so she couldn’t see that Doug wasn’t what she needed. 

We both stayed silent. I knew TK well enough to understand that he was still waiting for an answer to his question and wouldn’t talk until he got one. I sighed and gave him what he wanted. “I’m done with this. I’m done with this place, I’m done trying to save people who don’t want to be saved and I’m sure as hell are done with this so-called ‘family’.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a short, filler kind of chapter. The next one is way longer, I promise.


	3. South America

I could hear  _ her _ before I saw a face. "Hola Chico." Her voice sounded sweet and curious. I turned around to be met with a gentle smile. The sun let the salt on  _ her _ dark skin shimmer and the mild ocean breeze made some curly strands of her black hair dance.   
"Hola. ¿Qué puedo conseguir por una chica como tú?" I said with a open smile.   
She grinned. "¿Me das tu número?" My smile didn't fade as I draped the dishcloth over my shoulder and leaned over the sink on my side of the bar counter. "My spanish really sucks but I don't think we got that on our menu." 

"Oh please. Kiss your girlfriend already, Buck." A raspy voice interrupted our little roleplay. We both smiled and did as told before we turned to our right where Andres was sitting at the bar, looking at us over the rim of his newspaper.  "You young people have no sense for romance anymore." He said with his deep spanish accent and shook his head.  
"Yes we do." I said with a childish serious face. "And that is exactly why I am inviting my beautiful girl for dinner tonight at casa Andres." She grinned and fluffed up my hair. "Oh how romantic of you." 

We parted and she rounded the counter at the same time as Marcos entered the shaded bar area with an empty tray.  "The two lady's over there want some Pina Coladas." He told me and fell heavily onto a stool next to his grandfather Andres. "If they weren't drinking Pina Coladas I would ask them for their number." He sighed and I grinned while getting the supplies to mix the ordered drinks. 

“Why are you always judging people by their drinks?” I asked as I put the two glasses in front of Marcos who pouted a little.  
“That’s how you know they have taste.” He said simply, putting the drinks on his tray. “But apparently that’s something your girl doesn’t have if she’s still stuck with you!” He yelled back over his shoulder while he was already walking back out to the tables in the white sand. 

I tried throwing my cloth at him with laughter but of course it got caught in the straw roof of Andres’ beach bar called  _ La Maca _ . Said man put down his newspaper, neatly folded, and got up from his stool. Slowly because he was old. He never told me how old he actually was but I guessed he was at least in his high 70s maybe even 80. Andres had worked hard all his life in order to care for his family. When Marcos' parents both died in a sailing accident, Andres and his late wife Lucia raised their grandson. 

I had met Andres two years ago, after I had roamed around south America for a while - backpacking and getting by with small jobs on farms and beaches and bars. I had come into La Maca at night during a storm, soaked like a sponge. No one had been there so I picked a few locks and got myself some towels, tortillas and a drink while I watched the raging, grey ocean. 

The next morning Andres found me selling coffee to the early-bird-sunrise-watchers which were quite a lot of people since La Maca was the only ‘open’ place. He was impressed that I had not only cleaned up the bar (I had nothing else to do during the night and didn’t want to hurt anyone’s business with my technically considered break-in) but that I also wanted to give him all the money I had made from my newly found business for the towels and the drink and any other inconveniences I might have caused. 

So he invited me to stay at his house and in exchange I would open La Maca every morning for the sunrise watchers, sell coffee and do the shift ‘til noon. The rest of the day I was free to go surfing. And if someone felt the dire need to start day-drinking at sunrise… Please. I would gladly serve them their soul-comforter along with an open ear for their troubles. I had met many interesting people that way. 

Over the years I grew closer with Andres and Marcos and they became the family I never had in Pennsylvania. Shortly after I turned 22 I met my girlfriend at a fiesta for her grandmother who was a friend of Andres’.  _ She _ had gone to middle school with Marcos and I still think he kind of set us up.

And there I was. The small, local community had taken me in like a puppy, Marcos had become a brother to me and I was truly happy for probably the first time in my life.    
“Marcos is not wrong, mijo. You are really inviting this pretty girl to a dinner her own abuela cooked for us?” Andres said while he made his way to the cigar cabinet.    
“I like my abuela Valentina’s cooking very much.” My girlfriend said with a smile I would want to see every day for the rest of my life. “Also you should already tell my abuela how much you like her, Andres!” She added to which Andres didn’t say anything but I could swear he turned a little bit red when he walked off to meet with some other men for their daily game of Truco. 

We just laughed and I gave my girl another kiss.  _ She _ was so sweet and gentle and loving. Her heart was pure like the ocean breeze and in times of hardship most people turned to her for comfort and guidance. She tried to help everyone she could and she always put others before herself. I admired her for her kindness and I knew that if I was ever to call  _ her _ my wife, I would be the luckiest guy in this universe. 

Marcos came back with orders from another table. "Elena is coming in a few minutes. You guys can head out, make love or something." He grinned which earned him a light smack on the back of his head. 

My girlfriend pulled me out of La Maca’s shade and we walked along the beach hand in hand over to the cliffs where she had usually parked her bike while i picked up my surfboard.  "I'm heading over to the reef on the north shore. Pablo and Catalina should already be there. Don't you want to come?" I told her with a light kiss on the cheek.   
She softly stroke through my hair. "No, I'll pick up some things for abuela on the market and help her prepare. But enjoy the waves and tell my brother that our dad wants him to fix the porch when he gets home."   
I laughed. "Okay have fun with Valentina and try convincing her to go out with Andres sometime." And while she was already driving off she yelled back "Abuela would smack her favorite grandson in law for not calling her abuela."   
I looked after her while she cycled away, the sun giving her skin a golden shimmer while her hair flowed in the wind. She was stunning and if she hadn't turned at the street corner I would have never been forced to stop looking at  _ her. _

The waves were amazing that day. Pablo, Catalina and I rode some pretty high waves and Pablo finally mastered a jump he was working on for weeks already. He was an amazing surfer. I would never be as good as him but he had taught me all I needed and his girlfriend Catalina was just one of the most badass people I had ever met. No wave was to high or too impossible for her. 

"Man I'm busted. Those rides were awesome." I said a little out of breath as we all met up somewhere about a hundred feet outside the reef.   
"It was a really good ride. We got to come here again. It's like a secret spot - not many people." Catalina added sitting on her board.   
I gentle stroke through the crystal clear water with my fingers. The sparkle reminded me of  _ her  _ eyes.

"Oh shit!" Pablo suddenly burst out. I was confused and turned around to follow his gaze to the shore. It wasn't hard to spot. A sky-high cloud of smoke came from the village. Something was burning.

With just one more look at each other we started paddling back to the beach. Once we reached sand we ripped of the safety lines from our ankles and left the boards to climb up the small path on the low cliffside. Pablo pulled up Catalina the last few inches and we ran straight through the field down to the village. The cobblestone didn't slow uns down once we reached the streets and we followed the dark tower of smoke. 

I didn't think. It only hit me the moment we rounded a corner to a street I knew all too well. We could already see the flames licking through the windows of the house at the end of the narrow alley.  Pablo screamed out what was already trying to make it's way into my conciousness. "THAT'S ABUELA'S HOUSE!"   
People came from all directions and the designated firefighters pulled up with the truck which seemed awful tiny against the burning house.

I didn't notice any of that. The only thing I noticed was the the light blue bike that was leaning against the wall.  _ She _ was in there. My heart and my feet froze right there. Not even the heat from the fire could make them melt. My mind went blank and all I could see was the flickering orange of the flames that filled my vision. 

Pablo later told me that I had only stopped for a heartbeat, before something took over. He said he'd never seen such clarity in someone's eyes before I sprinted into the burning building. I don't remember myself making a decision but I remember how suddenly everything around me became much sharper, more defined and more saturated. The colors around me became brighter and I could make out a path through the flames as if they parted for me.

Smoke made its unforgivable way into my airways and only after a few seconds in the house I had to cough. I screamed her name nevertheless at the top of my lungs but she didn't call out.  I turned the corner to the kitchen area and suddenly I spotted a foot through the thick smoke. I yelled her name again and grabbed the foot. I pulled her closer. I remember how her skin stuck to my hand like gum. She was unconscious and her right side was heavily burned. My body should have not been able to function as I saw  _ her _ . But somehow I managed to pick her up and carry her bridal style to the light at the end of the hallway.  For a second I looked back to get abuela Valentina too but there was no chance. The stairs had already collapsed. 

I stumbled out into the sunlight, panting heavily to fill my lungs with clean air. Immediately there were people around us but the world started to blur. I could only sink to the ground, trying to gently put  _ her _ down, before the blur turned black and with it my awareness of reality.


	4. Above the clouds (South America)

The roar of the turbines faded into a steady humming that filled my ears, the quiet chatter merged into white noise I shut out and the only thing I focused on were the slowly passing clouds far beneath me.  Small ice crystals stuck to the outside of the oval window and they reminded me of the cold that had settled in my world when they had told me.

The space around me had seemed to close in. The walls had turned from white to grey and the light had lost it's brighness. "I'm sorry. The burns were too severe. Her organs failed." I had stumbled a few steps back before Marcos had caught me and held me in a tight hug. I didn't cry then but my legs were about to give out.   
"You did everything you could. This is not on you." He'd whispered but to me his words didn't have meaning. 

A little turbulence shook me out of my cruel flashback and let her image fade from my inner eye. Just as I decided to try and sleep for a while a baby three rows behind me started to cry. The sound pierced into my heart like a bullet fired from close range. I pressed my palms to my ears to shut it out but the echo of it rang endlessly through my mind and it brought me back to when I had faced  _ her  _ family.

I had walked up to her relatives in the hospital, her baby cousin crying and I had expected neglect or accusations why I hadn't saved  _ her _ . But instead her father had just hugged me. It was a little awkward as he was a head shorter than me but this hug had given me so much comfort.    
“You made mija very happy.” He’d said. “And I find warmth in knowing my little girl was happy when she had to go.” There was nothing I could do except nodding as her father had patted me on the shoulder.   
Her mother had pulled me in tightly too. “You ran into a burning house for my daughter and our family will always remember you for that. I know she loved you very much and you will forever be a son to this family.” I had grabbed the woman’s hands and looked deep into her eyes. “Thank you…” I had wanted to say more but I choked and there was nothing else I could have said.    
One after another they all came up to me, hugged me and said their variations of thank you. But I had felt like I didn’t deserve a single one of them. 

A stewardess pushed her cart down the isle serving drinks. I watched her putting a cup in front of a younger woman and it brought me back to one of our first conversations.

I had put down a cup on the coffee table before  _ her  _ as I sat down on the couch next to  _ her _ . "So where were you the last year?" I had asked genuinely curious and annoyingly nervous. This girl with her black curls, honey colored eyes and tanned skin was just absolutely messing up my feelings.   
"I went to university in New York. I was part of a program for international communications."  _ She  _ said with a smile that had melted me on the spot.   
"That's cool." I had said. "I had a friend in New York."   
She had raised an eyebrow. "Had? What happened to him?" That was one of  _ her  _ special traits - always wanting to know what people had become.   
"He got hurt on the job and never got away from the opiods. I couldn't help him anymore and we drifted apart." I'd told her truthfully.   
"So what made you stay here?"  _ She  _ had asked and while she had said that, her eyes locked with mine. 

"Here I found  _ you _ ."

I took a few deep breaths. I could still hear  _ her  _ voice in my head so clear as if she was sitting next to me. Except  _ she  _ wasn’t. Who in fact was sitting next to me on the middle seat was an older, african american lady, with a few pounds too much who now leaned over to me with a concerned face.    
“Are you okay sir? Are you having trouble breathing? My daughter is a nurse, she would know what to do.” She sighed and her voice became somehow… soothing. “I know it can be scary, traveling by plane today but I’m pretty sure, we’ll make it to San Diego just fine.”    
Wait what? What was she talking about? I quickly glanced at my watch. Oh right. September 11th.    
“Uhm no ma'am. I’m sorry I was just reminiscing uncomfortable memories.” I said politely and her facial expression turned sympathetic. She nodded in a manner that let me guess she knew what I was talking about.   
“Yes, some memories will haunt one forever. I got a few of those myself.” She stretched out a hand. “Harriet Price.”    
With a compelled smile I shook her hand. “Evan Buckley” I hesitated for a split second before I added “But you can call me Buck.” And just like that I was thrown back again to when I was sitting on my surfboard out in the ocean. The waves gently brushed past my legs and the sun made the crystal clear water sparkle. As beautiful as it was, I just couldn’t take my eyes off of  _ her  _ as she paddled over to me.

“What are you dreaming about, Buck?” She’d said with a smirk, pulling me out of the fantasy into the no less beautiful reality. If  _ she  _ hadn’t caught me so off guard I would have stuttered “You.” but instead all I brought out on short notice was “What did you just call me?”   
“I called you Buck.” She’d answered me simply. I had smiled at that. “Why Buck?” But I didn’t get an answer.  _ She _ ’d just turned around and quickly started paddling, catching the wave and riding it perfectly until it fully broke.    
I grinned while looking after  _ her _ . I liked how  _ she  _ made me chase her. Well, I’d chase  _ her  _ across the ocean if necessary and so I’d caught the next wave which brought me right next to  _ her _ .    
“Because your name sounds stupid with the spanish accent we all have here. So… Buck. It suits you.” She explained while letting the tide drift her to shore. I did the same and for a moment I had wondered why she still sat on her board after we’d already hit sand but I was too slow to notice the handful of wet sand she’d grabbed and threw at me. I’d let out a very girly squeak, ripped off my ankle strap and started chasing her like  _ she _ ’d made me.    
We ran along the beach while the sun was starting to set at the horizon and for a moment I never wanted to stop running. I never wanted the sun to stop making  _ her  _ skin shimmer golden. I never wanted to stop laughing. I never wanted this moment to end.    
I had quickly caught up to her and as I tackled her we both landed in the sand. Our eyes locked. The sun made them glow like hot honey and before I had the time to think anything else our lips had locked too. 

I only noticed that a lonely tear had made its way down my cheek when I felt a soft tissue wiping it away. It was Mrs. Price who encouraged me to keep the tissue.   
“She was special to you, wasn’t she?” Harriet said while she put the pack of tissues back into her purse. I looked at her a little dumbfounded.   
“How did you…?” But she interrupted me with an energy I didn’t dare to challenge. “Oh please. If no one’s supposed to know, then you gotta do a much better job at hiding it. I could have told from the ground with you being in this tincan of an airplane that she was special.”    
I sighed. “Some might say  _ she  _ was the one.” My voice was so quiet I was surprised Mrs. Price had even heard me but she just put a hand on my knee. “Then why are you running away?” And her look was the same look Andres had given me five days ago.

“I’m not running away!” My voice had risen significantly along with my anxiety but I respected Andres too much to allow myself any more of an outburst.    
“Booking a flight to San Diego doesn’t look like running to you?” he had said loudly. I knew he wasn’t angry. He was worried.    
“I need to get out, Andres! I can’t stay in this place without  _ her _ ! It hurts too much!” I’d yelled and it was finally out. I couldn’t hold myself anymore and broke down sobbing. Adres’ shoulders settled as he slowly kneeled down in front of me, resting his forehead against the back of my head.    
“I know Buck. I know. And I hope you will find ease for your pain.” If I hadn’t known that Andres never cried I could have sworn I had felt a tear between my hair. “But remember you will always have a home here, mijo.”

I told Mrs. Price about everything that had happened. She looked contemplative. “It does sound like she was the one.” I just stared at the back of the seat in the row before me.  
“What was her name?” Harriet then asked. I swallowed hard as I looked out the oval window, watching as the clouds absorbed our plane in its descendance down to a new beginning. A beginning filled with remorse from a past life. A life that was inevitably over. Already the second life I was leaving behind and yeah, maybe I was running away. Maybe I should have tried to make it work. But after all, running was so much easier than facing the pain.

“Maribel. Her name was  _ Maribel _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it is noticeable enough that Buck is on an airplane and has flashbacks to moments that happened prior to his departure. I thought of putting the flashbacks in cursive but if you go back to the very first paragraph of this story you'll notice that cursive has a special meaning for this whole story.


	5. California

_Dong_

The deep ringing sound the bell made was quiet. I didn’t dare to hit the metal harder. 

_Dong_

My comrades had just made it through hell week. Five days with only four hours of sleep. They would already be mad at me when they’d find out. No need to make them even more mad for waking them up in the middle of their first full night of sleep.  
I hesitated a moment before I pulled the string again.

_Dong_

No doubt. This was the right decision. 

“You owe me 100 bucks, Buckley.” I suddenly heard from behind me. I sighed. “Can you change that to a beer? I’m a little broke right now.”  
I turned around to find CPO Newman leaning against a column on the porch-like part of the barracks. “Out of all those recruits, you were the last one I expected to quit. So much I even betted my ass on you with the other instructors.” He said and even though his words might sound harsh, his voice was just pure curiosity. “Why, Buckley? Why do you quit?”   
I couldn’t look him in the eye, as I took off my helmet. It was still green. I would have gotten my blue one for phase 2 tomorrow. “This is not me. I can’t turn off my empathy every time I put on this helmet.”  
Newman came closer and crossed his arms in front of his chest. The sporadic light came from a lit doorway behind him, so I couldn’t really identify his full facial expression. “But you have what it takes. You made hell week look like a vacation. Why now?”   
My heart cramped up. “It’s easy to soothe pain by inflicting more pain in a different place. Isn’t that something we all learn as children?” I stopped for a split second. At least my childhood had taught me so. “This training was the pinch in my arm while my heart was hurting.”

Breathe. 

No doubt.

This was the right decision.

“So no. I don’t have what it takes because I know that once it comes down to it, I would hesitate before pulling the trigger. If I’d pull it at all. That’s not something a SEAL can afford. You want machines but that’s not me. I want to be a person.”  
CPO Newman looked sympathetic if I told that right from what I could see. What he said surprised me tremendously. I was expecting anything except his next words. “You were fighting with so much anger, which made you such a strong recruit. But only those who build up enough anger and pain for a lifetime will stay in the military. You let your anger out on hell week and I’m glad it made you see that whatever caused you such pain wasn’t worth dedicating your life to something that isn’t you.”

I was a little taken aback by how accurately he described it but what he added is the reason I will always deeply respect CPO Newman as the most honorable man I know. “Also I assume you would be very miserable with a life in the Navy which you’d go back to after quitting SEALs. I’ll come up with something to discharge you in your drop-out report.”  
I slowly allowed myself to smile and Newman did too as he stretched out a hand which I shook firmly. “Thank you, Sir.” It was the deepest, most honest thank you from the furthest place down in my heart that I had ever given someone.   
He just nodded and watched me put my helmet down into the line of quitters. Some of the other people who had put their helmets here must have felt shame for not being strong enough, but all I felt was gratefulness. 

I passed CPO Newman with my head held high, making my way over to the exit. But before I could leave through the gate, he said one more thing. “You'd make one hell of a firefighter, Buckley. You ever thought about that?” I stopped but didn’t turn around. His words brought me back to the moment I stood in front of abuela Valentina’s burning house, when the world around me had seemed to fall in place. The moment I knew with such clarity what I’d do. It also brought the images of the firefighters at 9/11 before me which I had seen on TV when I was just ten years old. How those brave men and women fascinated me to my core. His words reminded me of TK’s dad Owen for whom being a firefighter was not just a job but the meaning of his life. 

And with my back still turned to Newman I whispered, without him ever hearing it “More than once, Sir.”

Then I left.

I left Coronado.

I left San Diego.

There was nothing keeping me there.

As the world passed on the other side of the window, outside the Greyhound bus, I had a lot of time to think. And somehow I didn't need to think at all. It was like for the first time in my life I saw my next steps before me. My path illuminated and with bright signs. It was as obvious as following the yellow brick road. I knew what I needed to do.   
When I found myself in front of a large, white building, with wide stairs leading up to it, I had to smile. Newman had been right. This was exactly what I wanted to do. It felt so. Damn. _Right_.

There was one more thing I wanted to do. It was something that was long overdue. I should have done it years ago but as Newman said, I had let out all my anger on hell week. Only now I was able to forgive.   
I pulled out my phone and tried her workplace. The research for that was all done on the busride since I didn't have anything else I needed to think about anymore.  
"I'd like to speak to Madelyn Kendall, please." … "Then tell her that if she ever needs her brother, I'll be in Los Angeles. And I'll be staying here."

After I hung up, I deeply exhaled and walked up the wide stairs to the LAFD Fire Academy. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


To be honest I kind of felt like Rocky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to research as much as possible about SEALs and I also asked my drill-sergeant from ROTC about it because I really wanted it to be accurate. The military means a lot to me so I hope I did this right. Also in the show Buck said you don't have to be in the Navy to join SEAL Training but that is not true. You do have to be signed with the Navy or the Naval Academy.


	6. Los Angeles

_You pretty much know the rest from there." Buck says as he leans back on the couch and takes the last sip from his beer. Christopher smiles widely "That was the best story you have ever told, Buck."_ _The man's heart fills with warmth. "Thank you Buddy. That means a lot."_ _  
_ _"But now it's time for bed, big man. Do you need help getting ready?" Eddie chips in while putting Christopher on his feet and giving him his crutches.  
_ _"Dad, I'm nine! You said yourself I'm a big man!" The kid's statement makes both older men grin.  
_ _"You're right, you got this. I'll be there in a few minutes to tuck you in, okay?" Eddie tells him as Chris walks off._

_For a while there was silence between the friends. Eddie doesn't know what to say, because he isn't sure if Buck needs comfort or confirmation or assurance or maybe even praise. He doesn't know how Buck feels about his lifestory._ _At the same time Buck doesn't know what to say because he has no idea how his lifestory makes Eddie feel. Uncomfortable? Contemplative? Is this something that will change their friendship? Their relationship?_

_Then it is Eddie taking the first word, sensing that Buck feels uncomfortable without knowing what Eddie is thinking about his revelations. “Have you ever talked to Andres or Marcos again?”  
_ _Buck sighs deeply. He had been hoping for a different question but he answers truthfully. “A few times. Andres passed away right before I started SEAL training. He was old and he knew that it was his time to go. I was already at BUDS when they held the funeral. Marcos then went to Europe, looking for something he really wanted to do and as far as I know he’s still there.” Buck chuckles. "I guess the europeans have way better taste in drinks."_

_Eddie takes a sip from his beer. “What about La Maca? It sounded kinda like a safe haven for a lot of people.” This makes Buck smile. Eddie is right. La Maca was a comforting shelter for many and in secret he hopes that the straw roofed bar had kept its magic.  
“Pablo and Catalina took over the beach bar. They got married and I saw on social media that about a year ago they had a daughter. Her name is Mariela.” Buck smiles. “And they are even still selling sunrise coffee.” _ _Buck’s eyes meet Eddie’s. “Do you miss them?” Eddie asks, his voice calm and genuine. The blonde nods. “Yeah, sometimes. They are family after all, but I find joy in knowing that they are living their lives just as I do.”_

_They both stay silent again for a few moments. Eddie isn’t quite sure if he can ask what burns his tongue but as he looks at Buck who just stares at his empty beer bottle, Eddie decides that it is now or never. “What… What about your blood family? Your parents?”  
_ _Buck's face turns cold. He really, really doesn’t want to talk about that but Eddie asked. And Buck will always answer Eddie. “After I left the house early in the morning, heading to South America, I never spoke to my dad again. None of us ever tried to reach each other. None of us cared enough. I don’t know what happened to him. Maddie doesn’t either, or at least refrains from telling me because I don’t want to know. My mom…” Buck pauses for a second and inhales deeply. “...if she stayed with him then she’s as miserable as I left her. She’s another person who doesn’t want to be saved and for all I care, my parents are dead to me.” His whole body is tense and his muscles only relax when Eddie puts his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. “If that’s what you want to live with, then that’s okay. You had Andres as a better father and now you have Bobby as your dad.”_

_Buck looks at the Texan a little anxious. “He’s not…” but Eddie doesn’t let him speak. “Oh come on, Buck! It’s like Harriet Price said: If you don’t want anyone to know, then you gotta do a much better job at hiding it.” Buck laughs. “Damn it, Harriet! You’re always right, just like your daughter.”  
_ _Suddenly there’s something falling into place in Eddie’s mind. Could it be? “Wait… You know Mrs. Price’ daughter?” Buck just grins sheepishly. “Oh did I fail to mention that Harriet was Carla’s mother?” Eddie’s jaw ceases to obey the command of keeping his mouth closed. “But… but… how?” He stutters. He can’t really wrap his head around what he just found out.  
_ _"Coincidence.” Buck says. “We found out way later though. While caring for Abby’s mom Carla mentioned her mother’s name and the pieces fell in place. I actually still meet her for coffee sometimes.”_

_With his head still shaking in deniance, Eddie gets up and takes the empty beer bottles to the kitchen. While he takes out two new ones from the fridge he seems to think about something that makes him grin. “You know what happened to Coach Pristan and CPO Newman? Any more surprises or coincidences I should know about?” Buck laughs at that as Eddie hands him the cold beer.  
“Coach P? Honestly no clue. He wasn’t too old at the time but by now I think he’s probably retired or at least close to retiring. I remember vaguely that he had baby number two on the way when I left middle school.” Buck takes a sip. “Newman kept contact. He was the only one who came to my academy graduation for me and I got him that beer I owed him for losing his bet with the other instructors.” _ _  
_ _“I remember guys like him from the Army.” Eddie remarks. “I wonder what kind of pain or anger he’s built up to stay in the military.”_ _  
_ _Buck just shrugs. “In my experience the most caring people are the ones who lost the most, endured the most and hurt the most. They abided the suffering and decided in an act of astonishing selflessness that it was too cruel for anyone else to bare. So they carry the pain_ for _everyone else, behind a facade of glee and optimism. Those people are the real heroes in...” As Buck continues to speak, it seems like he is realizing something. “They’re the real heroes in my story. To those people I owe everything I am today.”_

_He pauses for a brief second, frowning. “CPO Newman is such a person just like Coach P, Owen Strand, TK, Harriet Price, Andres and…” His voice breaks off as he chokes on the name he unintentionally wanted to add without thinking about it, simply because it was true. A lonely tear made its way down the young man’s cheek.  
_ _“And Maribel?” Eddie quietly finishes the list. Buck nods, struggling to control the tears. “And Maribel.” He whispers. "Especially Maribel."_

_Buck takes a few deep breaths. Internally he decides that he needs to tell Eddie everything in order for him to fully understand. “Maribel… She had been raped multiple times as a child by members of a drug cartel that was terrorizing her family because Pablo had refused to join the gang. Even after the ring was destroyed and they had moved back to their hometown, the memories of the abuse would haunt her every night.”_ _  
_ _Eddie’s face reflects a series of emotions. None of them linger long enough for Buck to decipher what he is thinking. So he continues to talk, for this is the only way to relieve his feelings. “What she had to go through should have made her question the existence of good in people. Instead she became the most kind hearted person I know to this day. Forgiving every sin, never judging a book by its cover and giving out second chances like flyers. She was listening, I mean_ truly listening _, but most importantly she_ cared _for people in times of trouble when there was no one else who bothered to care.”_ _  
_ _Buck exhales deeply - his tears have dried. He has to admit that remembering the good in someone actually makes the still present pain more bearable. Eddie puts his hand on his best friend's shoulder. “She sounds like a firefighter without a turnout coat to me and the way I know you, you are doing a damn good job in honoring what was important to her.”_ _  
_ _Buck smiles at the words of the former soldier, feeling a lot better than he had just minutes earlier._

 _Eddie pats Buck’s shoulder in reassurance before they hear Christopher rumoring in his room and Eddie gets up again to tuck in his son. It takes a few minutes which Buck spends flipping through some TV channels. Despite the low volume he doesn’t hear Eddie talking on the phone in the hallway after he had gotten Christopher to sleep. When the brown haired firefighter comes back to the living room, Buck turns the TV off. There wasn’t anything on anyways. As Eddie hands him a small sticky note he frowns at the phone number scribbled on it. “What’s this?”_ _  
_ _Eddie grins. “I couldn’t get the name Strand out of my head while you were talking. I knew that I’ve heard it before, but I couldn’t figure out where. Then it hit me. My cousin Mateo is a firefighter in Austin at Station 126 which was rebuilt after they had lost their whole crew in an explosion.” Buck still doesn’t look like he understands where this is going. “Now guess who managed to build an entire firehouse from scratch?” Eddie says, the grin not leaving his face. Slowly it seems to sink in. “Captain Owen Strand, who had rebuilt his station after 9/11.” Buck finishes the explanation and Eddie nods affirmative. The blonde holds up the sticky note. “And this is…?” Eddie points at the piece of paper. “This is TK’s number. He’s in Austin with his dad and according to Mateo he’s doing pretty well.”_

_The two friends stay silent once more. Buck needs the time to process. “Thank you, Eddie. This means a lot to me.” He then says quietly. Eddie doesn’t stop smiling. “Always, brother. But I have to thank you, because if you hadn’t come after Christopher’s wish to tell him your story we would have probably never known how Buck began.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of 9/11 today this story comes to an end. I found it very fitting since 9/11 plays such an important role in the life I envisioned for Buck. And yes. Every chapter, except the one where Buck saves Maribel, plays on September 11th with varying years apart. Christopher had asked Buck "Do you remember what you did that day?" while they were watching a rememberance documentary about 9/11 on September 11th, 2020. If you go back to the very first chapter, you can see how it's the answer to Christopher's question but you know the kid. He is curios and he just kept asking, which led to this last chapter.  
> I found a lot of joy in writing this and we'll see if anything I came up with could actually be true.
> 
> As a way to say THANK YOU to all the people who enjoyed reading what I wrote I added a little Bonus szene in the next chapter. Have fun!


	7. BONUS: Station 118 - Locker room if you wanna be picky

_ Eddie stops abruptly before he turns the corner to the locker room. He doesn’t want to interrupt the conversation he is about to hear and stays hidden behind the wall.  
_ _ “Hey TK.” … “This is uhm… This is Evan.” … “Yeah it’s really been a while.”  
_ _ Eddie smiles to himself. He usually isn’t the one to eavesdrop but this is making his day.  
_ _ “I don’t know either how long exactly.” Buck laughs. “What have you been up to?” … “What? How the hell did you manage to get shot?!” … “Okay, okay you're right, I'm no better. I had an exploding fire truck crush my leg.” … “I mean not that it's a competition, I would never say that.” ... "Oh yeah? I vomited blood after I got cloths in my veins."... "Oh really? Well I was caught in a Tsunami..." _

_ Eddie hears his friend laugh again. It makes the former soldier happy, to know that Buck could reconnect with his childhood friend.They will have a lot of catching up to do.  
He can also imagine without seeing him, how Buck’s eyes sparkle with happiness right now and he realizes that the way he couldn’t stop thinking about his best friend's pretty eyes in the color of shallow ocean water, resembles how Buck had spoken about Maribel.  _

_ And maybe, Eddie thought, if Maribel had been Buck’s past… maybe Eddie could be his future. _


End file.
